In betweens
by Mickis
Summary: A collection of drabbles and individual scenes involving characters from Supernatural. Ch 4: A short piece of writing where, due to circumstances, Castiel is no longer an angel and reflects on what it means to be human.
1. Rock Bottom

**Disclaimer: **So, don't own Supernatural or its characters. Not sure if it's Eric Kripke or Sera Gamble these days, but it's not me anyway.

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**In-betweens**

by

Mickis

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**Genre:** Will vary from chapter to chapter, so let's just slap a 'general' on it for good measure.

**Language:** English

**Fan Fiction Rated:** T (Will also vary, but never above T).

**Summary:** _A collection of drabbles and individual scenes involving characters from Supernatural._

_Basically just a place for me to collect all my short stuff concerning the show and its characters. I prefer to have my one-shots taking up less space that way. Cas is a favorite of mine, so there'll probably be an unfair amount of stuff about him. Just a fair warning._

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**A/N:** Castiel learns about being human, and all that goes with it.

**Genre: **Drama/Comedy, depending on your outlook.

**Fan fiction rated:** K

**Characters:** Castiel

**Spoilers/Timeline:** Don't read this if you haven't seen beyond 5x21.

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**I – Rock Bottom**

He was an angel of the Lord. He was a loyal soldier; a weapon of God, and his name alone struck fear in demons everywhere. He was ageless and flawless. Time was of no importance, for he could bend it at Heaven's will. Heaven - the place mortals would dream of and sometimes long for - was his to wander, and he had all of its power at his disposal. His brothers and sisters were all a part of him, as he was of them, for his family transcended the concept of time and space. They would never grow apart or lose touch. His family was timeless, and he always felt at home in their presence. He was always at peace, for he never doubted that his Father loved him along with everything else in creation.

He was never ill, and pain was a fleeting thing that rarely touched his being. Disease and poverty could not lay a finger on him, for he was untouchable. He was never alone, for he always carried his Grace and his Faith inside him. He was powerful, beautiful and blessed, for he was an angel of the Lord. Yes, he was all those things and so much more, with emphasis on _was_.

Today, he was broken and beaten. He was alone and scared. He felt terribly out of place, for he was a stranger in someone else's body, a body that had him trapped. This body, which had given him so many wonderful feelings and new experiences, had followed Heaven's example and turned against him. His body had once given him the warm sensation of the sunlight fondly licking his skin. Now, his skin felt sore and itchy, as if it would tare all over at the smallest movement. He was aching in every place he'd ever known, and he felt a hunger he'd never imagined to be possible. His throat was dry and sore, even protesting to the taste of water. His bones yelled at him in anger for not taking care of them properly and his muscles didn't seem to want to lend him any help.

Yes, lying in his hospital bed, he truly felt he had hit rock bottom. But he had been mistaken.

Rock bottom came half an hour later, when he felt for the first time a burning sensation in his groin, growing more painful by the minute. He'd been around humans long enough to know what that meant, but he'd never been hospitalized before, so there was no way he could have known what it truly meant for _him_.

With the nurse at his side, and his hand clutched tightly around IV pole he rolled with him with great difficulty, he realized suddenly how crowded this hospital was. Walking down that long, narrow corridor, he passed by everyone and everything he didn't want to see, or rather, he didn't want seeing him. His naked backside was left completely visible for everyone to stare at. It was almost as if the tiny, incomplete hospital gown had been left open in the back on purpose, to welcome people's eyes as you passed them by down the hall, painfully slowly to bout, just so no one would miss it.

But this had not been rock bottom, even if he'd thought so at the time. No, rock bottom was when he reached the bathroom, and realized he couldn't complete his task without assistance. The female nurse, whom had earlier caused him to blush in embarrassment when she came to help him out of his bed, had to take a large part in him peeing for the very first time in his existence. And though he had no prior experiences to compare with, he felt fairly certain it had gone worse than it did for most people.

Yes, rock bottom was when this quite frankly attractive young woman had bent down to wipe his leg clean of urine. He had only been human for about an hour at that point, and already he knew he wasn't going to enjoy it very much.

Although Dean certainly seemed to enjoy himself when he'd shared the humiliating story of his very first bathroom visit.

"Oh, don't worry about it, Cas," Dean said, giving him a playful pat on the shoulder. "You've got a lot of firsts to cross over on your list. I'm sure rock bottom is still down the road."


	2. Rest

**A/N:** Cas shows up late, having recieved a text from Dean.

**Genre: **General

**Fan fiction rated:** K

**Characters:** Castiel

**Spoilers/Timeline:** Set sometime during season 5.

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**II – Rest**

The room was dark and silent, although the occasional noise of a nearby car passing by outside hummed through the minimally open window, the sill covered in a neat line of salt. There was streetlight from the motel sign outside slipping in through the inches wide crack in the heavy curtains, painting a faint red line across the decades old carpet. He had been meaning to drop by earlier, but he had a tendency to lose track of time when his presence wasn't demanded immediately. The brothers were both sound asleep in their beds, Dean still wearing several layers of clothing where he lay on top of his covers. Castiel had come to understand that it was the hunter's way of sleeping with one eye open.

It had been days since he last talked to hem, he realized. Aside from the few text messages he received from Dean, wanting his safety confirmed. Castiel disliked typing text messages on the phone – even more so than he did calling someone on it – but he always replied to them, usually in two or three-word sentences – and sometimes less if possible.

He'd been expecting to find them still awake. It wasn't _that_ late. He slipped his hand down the pocket of his trench coat and pulled out the cell phone, flapping it open and introducing the room to new light as he did. The clock on the display read 0:32 AM. The Winchesters were very unpredictable in their sleeping habits, he had come to learn. Not long ago he'd found them up and about scrubbing blood off of their clothes at nearly three in the morning.

The angel opened the text message he received earlier.

_Received: 22:03 PM_

_From: Dean Winchester_

_ Subject: Mulberry Inn, Madison Tennessee. Room 305. You better be alive!_

Hours had passed, he realized. Time seemed to have a different flow when he didn't have the brothers around to help measure it with. They were constantly checking their watches, trying to beat time itself when driving to their next destination or packing up to be out before they were charged an additional night. It was just another thing that was different from heaven, serving as a sad reminder of how far he'd fallen from his old life.

He considered leaving again to continue where he left off in his search for God: Spain. He fumbled with the amulet in his coat pocket, the small piece of metal still somewhat warm from him fiddling with it as often as he did. So far it had proved itself to be nothing but useless, but Castiel had faith, and it did provide him with a strange sense of home, a feeling he had been missing desperately ever since he'd been cast out of heaven. Albeit it was a different home, one he associated with Dean and his younger brother. He knew it was merely a surrogate home, because he didn't belong with them. He often felt like an alien creature in the presence of the two brothers, their jabbering and pop-cultural references leaving him utterly clueless, but even so the very shape and feel of the talisman felt familiar in the palm of his hand.

He realized then with an odd sensation that he felt... worn. It was a feeling that had been creeping up on him more and more lately. He felt heavy and unfocused, but never to the point where he actually had to sleep. Then again, angels didn't sleep. As long as he managed to stay awake, he'd know he still had his Grace intact.

He wondered about sleep. He had fallen unconscious on several occasions due to severe injury or overuse of power, but that was different. Sleep was something humans did when laying down to close their eyes for hours on end, disappearing into themselves completely. He had watched the brothers sleep many times, pondering the mystery of it. He knew they oftentimes dreamt in their sleep, sometimes bad dreams that left them stirring and twisting in their sheets. He had even visited Dean in his dreams a few times, but he was very much awake in doing so.

Castiel sat down at one of the chairs at the small table by the wall, observing the brothers in silence. The beating of their hearts had slowed down considerably, which it always did as they slept, and their breathing was slow and almost soundless.

Perhaps it would be best to rest here for a while before returning to Spain, he decided, leaning deeper into the slightly uncomfortable wooden chair.


	3. Stashed

**A/N:** Following 'Defending Your Life', Sam brings up the subject of Cas.

**Genre: **Drama.

**Fan fiction rated:** T (because of bad language)

**Characters:** Sam/Dean/(Castiel)

**Spoilers/Timeline:** Don't read this if you haven't seen beyond 7x04.

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**III - Stashed**

The radio crackled on almost minimum volume and the sunset was already catching up to them in the rearview mirror. They were driving on a back road, barely passing any cars at all at this hour, and Dean stared quietly ahead of him, both hands steady on the wheel. The radio's signal was getting weaker on the station Dean had picked out, a collection of rock and roll oldies, and finally Sam got tired of it and leaned forward to find something that didn't break every five seconds. He settled for a random station that played popular music of today. Dean didn't even flinch as they came back from commercials and Lady Gaga started playing in the impala, and that's when Sam knew something had to be way off with his brother.

They had been driving for a few hours, and in that time no more than a few words had been said between them. Dean was always one to bottle up things like this, so Sam knew he had to tread carefully, but after two hours of going through possible witnesses in his head, he couldn't _not _bring it up anymore.

"Aren't you curious who the third witness was?"

Dean turned to him with a look of surprise and irritation. "Again? Really, Sam?"

Sam frowned, knowing his brother wasn't exactly in a sharing and caring mood. "I just... I mean, all things considered it was really nice seeing Jo again." He caught Dean frowning and grabbing a steadier hold of the wheels, obviously not interested in taking part in this discussion. "Obviously, the circumstances could have been better," Sam offered, "but you said she seemed happier and I..." he trailed off, trying to find a way to say it without pushing Dean away. "It just makes me wonder who we missed out on seeing."

"Probably better off not knowing."

"I guess," Sam agreed reluctantly. "But it's like you said, it could have been anyone. It could have been Rufus or Pamela... or even dad." He paused to observe his brother's reaction, but whatever he felt, he kept it to himself. Their father had always been a touchy subject, even when he was still alive, and Sam knew he was treading a dangerous path, bringing it up. John Winchester had been dead for a long time, but even now, years and what felt like lifetimes later, the man rarely came up in conversation. "Imagine seeing him again after all this time."

"You saying it was my fault they all died?" Dean sent him a side-glanced glare.

"No, of course not," Sam quickly insisted. "But this was never about you being guilty or not. This was about you _feeling_ guilty, Dean. And as far as that goes, I think they would all qualify as the final witness."

"Yeah, I guess," came the irritated reply. "But the past is better off in the past."

Sam studied his older brother, trying to find a dent in the wall he'd built around himself where he could find his way in. "So there's really no one you would have wanted to talk to again, given the opportunity?"

"No."

Sam held his tongue for a hesitating moment before continuing, "Not even Cas?"

Dean didn't reply, but his jaw visibly tightened. It wasn't much, in fact if it was anyone else sitting here in the car with him, they probably wouldn't have noticed it, but Sam knew where to look. The wall was still standing tall as a fortress around him, but at least now he had an idea where to break in, and so he grabbed a spoon and started digging. "You think it could've been Cas?"

"Cas was an angel. You and I both know angels don't come back as spirits."

"Yeah, but I don't think this was about spirits. This was about death. I mean, he even brought back a dog just 'cause he thought it was appropriate. Besides," he added as an afterthought, "we've seen both cars and ships in the past, so it's really not that much of a stretch."

"Cas is gone, Sam." Dean said simply, giving his head a single shake as he kept his eyes on the darkening road. "No reason to go back there."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, turning to look out his side window. "But we didn't exactly part on the best of terms."

"What's your point?" There was aggression starting to seep through Dean's voice, even though his expression wasn't giving away much emotion, if any at all.

"I'm just saying. Wouldn't you have wanted to clear the air with him if you'd been given the chance?"

"No," the answer came immediately.

"So... then you're okay with how things ended?" Sam turned to study his brother, not letting a single trace of emotion slip past his scrutinizing gaze. Cas had been a dear friend to him, and it had been a real punch in the gut losing him like they had, but Dean had always been the one who stood closest to him, and he figured that's why he took the angel's betrayal as hard as he did; it only made sense for him to take his death the hardest. But weeks had passed and he hadn't even been brought up once. He knew Dean wasn't one to grieve openly, but keeping it all under lockdown like this was only a disaster waiting to happen, especially in their line of work. There was a reason guys like Osiris always zoned in on Dean and not him.

"What Cas did," Dean finally began, still keeping his eyes fixated on the road, "that was all him. He made those choices and he ended up in that lake because of them." He turned to look at Sam, boring the words into him with his eyes before turning back to the road. "The guy was older than a fucking dinosaur and didn't have any more common sense than a kid. It's sad things ended the way they did, but there's no reason to be digging in it."

Sam nodded to himself. "I take it you don't want to talk about it then."

"Nothing to talk about, Sam."

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Sam flinched as the engine was turned off, not realizing he had been asleep in the first place. Dean pulled back the handbrake and snatched the car keys out of the ignition.

"Well, lookit that. It's awake."

"We there already?" Sam asked, looking around himself at the dark parking lot. It was almost empty, save from three other cars.

"Nope, but I'm done driving for the night, and you don't exactly look like you're in shape to take over so tonight we're staying at the, uh..." Dean paused to look out his window, "the Cherry Pie Inn."

"Us and a couple of hookers then," Sam concluded, pulling a face at the name.

"Probably. I know I'm sleeping on top of the covers tonight," Dean replied, unbuckling his belt and opening the door with a steely creak.

Sam followed his example and stepped out of the car, feeling the bones and muscle in his back objecting as he stood tall after having spent most of the day boxed up in the impala.

"Hey," Dean called his attention from across the roof of the car. "I'll go check us in. You get our stuff."

"Sure," Sam agreed, barely able to react fast enough as the car keys were tossed his way across the roof. He caught them awkwardly, looking at his brother in irritation, who only grinned smugly in return.

"Better wake up, Sammy. Can't have you sleepwalking around this motel. You could end up in the room of some hooker, all down to business with some weird ass grown man with a fetish for diapers."

"Just call and leave the room number and I'll be fine," Sam said, watching Dean grin to himself as he turned around and walked across the parking lot to the reception.

Sam shook his head, the disturbing image of a middle-aged businessman dressed in nothing but diapers flashing before his mind's eye. Definitely not something he wanted to be thinking about just before going to sleep. He opened the backdoor of the Impala and reached inside for his duffel bag, throwing it over his shoulder before going back in for Dean's. They had both seen better decades, and he vaguely wondered why they didn't just buy new ones. He supposed it was just not something they remembered on the few occasions they were out stocking up on clothes and stuff. He shut the door with a bang and went behind the car to grab the vital firearms they might need in case of any uninvited visits during the night.

He pulled up the false bottom in the trunk and held it open with one of the rifles. Dropping his duffel to the ground, he unzipped Dean's and placed it on the edge of the trunk to fill it with the necessities they would need. He grabbed a package of salt as well as a few hex bags they used for overnighters, thoughtlessly rummaging through their belongings for whatever else that might come in handy, when he came across something he was not expecting at the bottom of the trunk.

He looked back up, catching Dean just as he disappeared inside the entrance of the motel, and then turned back to stare down the trunk of the car, surprise pumping his body awake.

Cas's trench coat.

He would recognize that worn piece of tan fabric anywhere, especially with the somewhat washed out traces of blood and black goo till soaked up in the cotton. It had been folded up quite haphazardly, hidden underneath their odd collection of guns and blades, but Sam knew the coat being stashed in the trunk like this was anything but careless.

It was proof that even in spite of his speech earlier in the car, Dean had a difficult time leaving the past in the past; proof that even though their friend was dead and gone and never spoken of, he was still with them and still important enough to bring along wherever they drove. Because everything in this trunk held some kind of usefulness against demons or monsters, every single piece of item stored in this trunk was done so on the possibility that it might come in handy on one of their jobs.

Every single little thing, except for the tattered, dirty piece of clothing that a certain angel used to wear.


	4. Being Human

**A/N: **A short piece of writing where Castiel, due to circumstances, is no longer an angel and reflects on what it means to be human.

**Genre:** Drama/Tragedy

**Fan Fiction Rated:** K

**Characters:** Castiel (As well as Dean and Sam)

**Spoilers/Timeline**: There's some very brief referring to the 5th season, but all in all you're good.

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**IV – Being Human**

He was human. He hated being human. Although humans had awakened a strong pull of curiosity in him even before he had ever gotten the opportunity to walk among them, he had honestly never wanted to be one. He had experienced a brief brush of it a few years back, and it had been anything but pleasant. Yes, he had never approved of what the angels did, of how heaven ruined earth for their own narcissistic purposes, but he had always loved being an angel. Upon meeting Dean Winchester, he had discovered free will and knew that he could choose to use his angelic powers for whatever purpose he saw fit. He could choose to do the right thing, even if it meant he had to turn his back on his celestial family, and he could choose to fight on the side of the Winchesters, the side of mankind. And that had been his choice – to fight for mankind. But he had never chosen to join them, at least not consciously. Although deep down he knew that it had been nothing but his own choices that had led him to where he was now. Looking back, he could easily trace them all back, one after another, and clearly make out the path that had brought him exactly right where he was, and he hated it.

But Dean was determined. Although he could often read the pity in his eyes, Dean made a very conscious decision to look at this unfortunate turn of events as an opportunity. As an older brother, Dean had taught Sam all there was to know in life, or at least all that he felt was important to know. And if there was anything Dean truly loved it was being an older brother, in fact he very much excelled at it. He was very passionate about his promise to show him how to "appreciate the good things in life", as he had put it. Things such as getting a good night's sleep, the fluent roll of a woman's hip as the walks by, loud music to keep you awake as you're driving at night and, of course – perhaps Dean's favorite thing of all – pie. He'd introduced him to various sorts of pie, each a new flavor at a different diner, but Castiel had yet to find a favorite. They'd gone through quite a number of them, and there were still many to go, but Castiel knew that he would never taste any of them.

Dean had promised to show him the good things in life, but Dean had been wrong. Instead Dean had been the one to show him the unbearable things in life, the fragility of it. Dean had shown him the helplessness of being human, how you could do nothing but watch as your best friend slipped away. Had he still been an angel, he could've saved him. He could've healed him and saved them all from this horrible outcome, but he wasn't.

He was human now.

He was human to appreciate the restless sleep that would come at night, and the bitter aftertaste the whiskey left in the morning. He was human to chew down the bland taste of diner food and he was human to sit through a nine hour-long drive in the impala with Sam in absolute silence. He was human to experience the slow healing process of fractured ribs after having been thrown helplessly into a wall, and to recognize a blatant lie when a bruised and bleeding Sam told him that he didn't need stitches. He was human now to recognize when a younger brother was mourning the only family he had ever known, and how he was spiraling down a self-destructive path that could only lead to more misery. He was human now to live out the rest of his pitiful human life with nothing but regrets and painful memories of what had once been. How a promise of happiness had so suddenly turned to a stung of betrayal.

This was Castiel's human experience, and he hated it.


End file.
